


Constellations

by Whedonista93



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Crossover, F/M, Original Character(s), Soulmates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-17
Updated: 2018-04-17
Packaged: 2019-04-24 02:13:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,444
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14345799
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Whedonista93/pseuds/Whedonista93
Summary: Thor gasps, then throws his head back in a hearty laugh. “You, my brother, may have saved us all, simply for being loved by the right person.”“None of you are saved!” Thanos roars. “I am favored by Death and you will suffer her wrath!”





	Constellations

Aquila curses as she receives an alert from the edge of her wards. Of course it has to go off as she’s securing her last property for the winter. She had almost been done, too.

A tall, pale, slim, bloodied figure is slumped against the ward. The moment Aquila steps outside the ward, the power surrounding the man hits her like a ton of bricks. He shuffles back at the sight of her.

She holds her hands up. “I’m not going to hurt you. Looks like someone else already did a fair job of that. I’d like to help.”

“I’m not worth saving, my lady,” he rasps, eyeing her warily.

“Well, if it’s all the same to you, I’d rather not let you bleed out on my lawn,” Aquila reaches out to grasp his arm and apparates them away before he can protest further.

When she lands in the kitchen of one of her more isolated summer properties moments later, the man is unconscious.

Aquila rolls her sleeves up and gets to work. With a wave of her hands, his clothes vanish from the waist up. His body is easy enough to heal - the wounds are serious, but they are just wounds. She stumbles back with a gasp when she reaches his mind. It is twisted, cloaked in something like an _Imperius_ , but immeasurably more overpowering. She takes a deep breath and reaches toward him again. She leans over him and places one hand on his bared chest while she wraps the other around his left arm. The pain is searing, but she trudges onward. Under whatever dark magic is holding him, she can sense his own magic fighting up toward her, helping her fight off the darkness enveloping him. Finally, _finally_ she finds a weak spot in the enchantment and throws her magic at it with all the force she can muster. The enchantment shatters under her assault.

She manages to levitate him up to the bed in the loft before passing out in the old wingback next to it.

When she comes to, eyes a few shades of green off from her own are staring at her, unblinking, in utter disbelief.

She raises one pale blonde brow in an expression that near perfectly imitates her father.

“He’s gone. How did you… he is no longer in my mind. Who… _what_ are you?”

Her expression doesn’t change, but nor does she raise her shields when she feels his magic poke at her tentatively. It _is_ only fair, after all - there is nothing she does not know about him or his history. It was really inevitable, reading so much of him, while being that deeply entrenched in his mind and his magic.

She feels his magic, already familiar from the fight to lift the curse, seep into and around her mind and opens her mind as much as she can.

“ _Oh_ ,” he breathes out sharply, “my thanks, my lady,” he inclines his head as best as he’s able from his position against the pillows, “I am in your debt.”

“And I am afraid many will know it,” Aquila says.

He raises an imperious brow of his own.

“I’m afraid my magic marked you,” Aquila nods to his chest and arm, “where my skin met yours when I was lifting the curse..”

He goes very still. “What are they?”

“On your chest is the Deathly Hallows. It is how my people refer to the components of the Master of Death. Down your arm is a constellation - Aquila. My name. I do apologize most sincerely. It was not my intent to mark you - only to save you.”

“Do you not know what the markings mean, my lady?”

Aquila shakes her head.

“Look down, my lady.”

Aquila’s eyes widen at the green and silver runes shimmering around her right wrist and the galaxy mapped out on her left arm.

He continues, “Such marks only occur, to my knowledge, among _my_ people. And even then, only very, _very_ rarely. When your skin first makes contact with the one who is the perfect complement to your own soul, your bodies and minds intertwine. Fate brands you with the other.”

“Fascinating.”

“You are not angry?” He asks hesitantly.

Aquila smirks at him. “Son of Asgard and Jotunheim, I am the daughter of Death and an Immortal. A god is likely the only being my parents would accept as even remotely close to being good enough for me.”

“I am not a good man.”

“Nor are you a bad one. I have seen your soul, Loki Friggason, and I can see why fate would pair us. I too, am my mother’s daughter, after all.”

 

* * *

 

“Luv, have you, uh, watched the muggle news lately?” Harri is rigid. If looks could kill, Loki would be dea- actually, Harri’s looks _can_ kill.

Aquila needs to nip this in the bud. She waves dismissively. “What, you mean that whole New York mess?”

“Alien invasion,” Harri growls, “led by _him_.”

“Not quite, mum.”

“You’d best explain quickly, before she loses her temper,” Draco advises without looking up from his copy of the _Quibbler_.

“Right, ‘cause mum is the only one with a temper,” Aquila drawls back.

Draco lowers the paper enough to glare at her over the edge of it.

Aquila smirks back.

Loki sighs, clearly exasperated. “Honestly, dearest, just tell them the truth.”

Aquila looks at him sharply. “Are you certain?”

Loki shrugs. “I sense you want to. Far be it from me to deny you anything.”

Draco looks up sharply at that and drops his paper to the table. “Sense?”

Aquila balls her hands in her lap. “Mum, dad, bear with me and suspend disbelief momentarily?”

She waits for both her parents to nod.

“Loki wasn’t acting of his own will. He was under something very similar to an _Imperius_ , but much stronger.”

“Stronger than an _Imperius_?” Draco pales.

Aquila nods. “If it weren’t for him fighting it the whole time, the damage in New York would have been exponentially worse.”

“He was successfully fighting something stronger than an _Imperius_?” Harri asks carefully.

Loki scoffs. “I still decimated nearly half of one of your world’s major cities, I don’t know if I would call that successful.”

Aquila reaches for his hand under the table. “Wasn’t your fault, Lokes. Can’t keep blaming yourself.”

“And why not? The rest of the world does.”

“I don’t.”

“And you broke this curse?” Draco asks dubiously.

“No,” Loki meets his eyes, “ _she_ did. _After_ healing me of various other ailments.”

Her parents goggle at her.

“Quila,” Harri leans forward in her chair, “that.. how…”

Aquila takes a deep breath and lifts her hands above the table, letting her sleeves fall and baring her arms and the marks adorning them.

Harri leaps up and grabs her hands. “What -”

Loki gently extricates her hands from Harri and points at the runes circling her right wrist, “In my colors, my name and title in the tongue of the Aesir and my name and title in the Jotun tongue.” He points to the galaxy on her left arm. “The nine realms mapped out.”

“You let this cad mark you?” Draco shoots up from his chair.

Aquila rolls her eyes and leans over to unbutton the collar of Loki’s shirt, revealing the Deathly Hallows right over his heart. At her gentle nudge, he turns so she can roll his sleeve up to reveal the constellation on his arm. “No more than I marked him - his magic marked me just as mine marked him.”

“I’ve never heard of such a thing…” Harri mumbles. “Do you suppose Mione-”

“No, mum,” Aquila cuts her off, “it isn’t a… it isn’t a thing with humanity, magical or not.”

“It is of the Aesir,” Loki explains, “and rare even then.”

“It bonds the souls of two beings,” Aquila finishes quietly, “we are utterly intertwined. Our minds and souls are bound. Anything one feels or thinks, the other knows.”

 

* * *

 

“You have to go, don’t you?” Aquila asks as her husband eyes the stars once again.

There is pain in Loki’s eyes when he turns to face her. “I will not go if you ask me not to.”

Aquila smiles sadly. “You must.”

“I will return.”

“Promise?”

“I promise.”

 

* * *

 

“Brother, what are you doing?” Thor asks as quietly as he can manage.

Loki freezes from where he is edging forward. “Ending this with as little damage as possible.”

“Letting him kill you will achieve nothing!”

“He won’t kill me right away. He likes to gloat and drag pain out. I just need him to hit me once. She’ll know. She’ll come. She’ll end this before anyone else has to die.”

“She?”

Loki takes advantage of Thor’s momentary confusion to flash to the front of the assembled heros.

Thanos sneers at him. “Sudden boldness, godling. I am not easily surprised, but I will admit I did not expect you here… certainly not after you managed to break my hold over you. So weak… couldn’t even manage an invasion when your mind was not your own. How did you manage to break my hold?”

“I didn’t.” Loki smirks. “I met the most _fascinating_ little witch after that whole mess with the Chitauri. She was rather irritated at such blatant abuse of such dark magic - wasn't overly put out about pulling it out of my head.”

Thanos roars and hurls a fist full of ugly purple magic at him. “I will teach you your place, son of no one!”

Loki flies back and lands hard, dazed and bleeding, but smirking.

A loud crack sounds and a feminine voice screeches, “Thanos!” drawing everyone's attention. Standing between Thanos and the assorted heroes is a tall, slim woman with pale blonde hair and striking green eyes. With her dark green gown and the gray cape billowing about her shoulders, she looks as though she would be more at home among the Aesir than on Midgard. At the sight of her, Thor drops to his knees, the rest of the Aesir present following suit.  

“My lady,” Thor rumbles.

Her eyes drift to him and a smile momentarily softens her features. “On your feet,  king of Asgard. I refuse to accept such homage from family.”

“Fam…” Thor’s gaze shifts to Loki, who has managed to pull himself into a sitting position, “Brother?”

Loki spits a mouthful of blood grins up at the woman. “Aquila.”

She rolls her eyes at him, the very picture of fond exasperation. “Honestly, luv, you couldn’t have just thought _New York_ at me rather loudly? No, you had to let him hit you… I daresay you may be an even bigger drama queen than my father.”

“Slander and lies,” Loki grins back as he shoves back to his feet.

“Nonsense. Mother and I had quite a lengthy discussion about it at our wedding reception while the two of you were getting so spectacularly sloshed, you know.”

“Is that so? And what did you conclude?”

Aquila shrugs. “We were rather sloshed ourselves. I believe we called it a draw.”

“Wha-” Thanos’ bellow cuts off abruptly as he flies back several feet through the air.

“Patience, Titan,” Aquila snaps as she lowers her hand. “I shall get to you, but right now I’m speaking with my husband.”

Thor gasps, then throws his head back in a hearty laugh. “You, my brother, may have saved us all, simply for being loved by the right person.”

“None of you are saved!” Thanos roars. “I am favored by Death and you will suffer her wrath!”

“No. They will not,” Aquila’s voice rings clearly and calmly through the air.

Thanos turns his snarl on her. “Who here can stop me? Certainly not _you_ , little girl.”

Aquila steps forward. “Titan Thanos, favored by Death or not, you are _not_ favored by the Master of Death.”

“Death has no master!”

“Oh, but she does. And were you not so blinded by your own lust for power, you would recognize mine.”

Thanos snarls at her. “You have no power I recognize.”

Aquila tilts her head and grins. “No? If you are so favored by Death, call her.”

Thanos stares at her briefly before grinning nastily and raising his gauntlet clad fist in the air. “Come to me, my Mistress, show these weak mortals who you favor!”

Nothing happens.

Aquila’s grin turns savage. “ _Mortem_.”

Loki chokes on a laugh behind her. "And  _I'm_ the dramatic one?"

A shadowy figure in dark robes appears behind Thanos.

Thanos spins and drops to his knees. “My lady.” He is ignored.

Death all but floats to a stop in front of Aquila. Her voice, surprisingly, is utterly human. And British. “You summoned me?”

“And I do so apologize for that..”

A grin can be heard in Death’s voice. “How may I be of service?”

“Are you really so fond of _that_?” Aquila grimaces as she gestures to Thanos.

Death shrugs. “Can’t say I even really know him.”

“He’s got this terrible habit of harming my husband. It’s aggravating and painful.”

“And when my lady is in pain, as am I,” Death brushes a hand down Aquila’s cheek. A dark mist envelopes Thanos, and they both vanish.

Silence rings.

“Well… that was anticlimactic,” Tony Stark observes.

“We _do_ still have his armies to deal with, Robocop,” Aquila rolls her eyes.

“You mean the armies that are fleeing, dearest?” Loki materializes at her shoulder.

She looks up to see he’s right. “Well, bugger. I was rather looking forward to a bit of a fight.”

“I’m certain we could find you one, but answer me this,” Loki glances toward where Thanos had stood moments before. “What did she do with him?”

A contemplative expression crosses Aquila’s face. “You know, I’m not quite certain. Remind me to ask her at Sunday supper.”

Loki chuckles. “Certainly.”

“Uh… hey Reindeer Games?” Iron Man hovers near them.

“What, Stark?” Loki raises a dark brow at the genius.

Tony lands and flips his mask back before waving between Aquila and where Thanos had stood. “What the fuck?”

Loki smirks and bows. “May I present my wife, Mistress of Death?”

Aquila smacks him upside the back of the head as he straightens. “And I repeat, drama queen,” she turns to Tony and offers a hand, “You can call me Aquila. And no, you won’t die if you shake my hand.”

Tony’s handshake is hesitant and brief anyway. “Tony Stark. So… is Death British because you’re British?”

Aquila laughs. “Death is British because she’s from Surrey.”

Tony gapes. Opens his mouth, closes it again. Finally, “I don’t wanna know. Giant purple dick isn’t coming pack?”

“No, he’s not coming back.”

“Great! SHIELD can handle containment of his ship. Shawarma?”


End file.
